From a Distance
by Unyielding Chaos
Summary: He loved her, but he felt like he was best suited to admiring her from afar. She needed to be with somebody who could be close to her. That was how it needed to be. MorixHaru oneshot. R&R! And now, read the sequel: With a Whimper.


It was cold.

It was colder than it had been in a while, and the near-frozen raindrops were anything but soothing on his pale, clammy skin. The weather that day personified his mood with disgusting accuracy. Cold, gloomy, and uncomfortable. This looming unhappiness hovered over him just as did the rain clouds that chased away the potential for a nice day. He wasn't angry, and he wasn't necessarily sad. But he wasn't happy. And this explosive lack of joy was a million times worse than agony, or sorrow, or grief. Not quite anger, not quite sadness, but miles away from happiness. It was lethargic discontent, and he was sure that it would be this cruel, horrible emotion that was almost absent, yet painfully present, that would end his life where he stood.

Not the unforgiving cold of the rain, not the taunting suspense of waiting for Haruhi to speak, but this indescribable, unbearable feeling.

"Mori-senpai…"

He didn't want to be in this position, but it was exactly the position that she'd put him in. Yesterday, when he'd heard it for the first time, he was able to ignore it. He had pulled the covers up to her shoulders and walked away, choosing not to hear it. That was no longer an option. She had found him while she was completely conscious, so he would have to explain himself. He could leave again, but it would take too much effort to move. Besides, he wasn't just going to walk away from her while she stood right in front of him. And even if he could bring himself to leave her, he knew she would find him again. He had come here to be alone, but still she had found him. And she would continue to find him, until he listened to what she had to say. So he stood there, waiting for her to speak so that he could be by himself.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy her company. Or rather, the reason that he didn't enjoy her company was because he was afraid he would enjoy it too much.

"Senpai, I meant what I said."

"Ah."

He had hoped that her words had been those of a restless teenager whose sleep deprivation was causing her to say foolish things. But somewhere, hidden deep in a crevice amongst his greatest fears and desires, he had known that she wouldn't have said something so heavy without thinking about it first. She wasn't one to make rash declarations. Still, he had hoped that she would take the first opportunity to use her tiredness as an excuse to take back her statement. But she didn't. And he was only making this harder for him.

What was he supposed to say? She loved him. She had told him she loved him, and he was humbled. Flattered. Elated. But he wasn't relieved, as he thought it would be. If anything, having his feelings returned saddened him more than the belief that his love was unrequited. And despite having waited for so long to hear her say those very words, actually hearing them left him feeling startlingly unsatisfied.

He had thought that being loved by Haruhi would make him feel whole, but now he felt emptier than he ever had when he pitied himself for having to love her so one-sidedly. Because when he thought that his feelings were unreciprocated, he was far away from her, and that suited him, in a sense. He was able to watch over her, protect her, and care for her without any expectations or hostility towards the other members of the club that had no idea he felt threatened by them. But if she loved him back, the whole equation was offset.

Suddenly, it was a competition that he was surely winning, but would somehow end up losing, because as much as he would love to believe that he and Haruhi could be together, he knew that she would be better off with somebody else. He loved her, but he felt like he was best suited to admiring her from afar. She needed to be with somebody who could be close to her. That was how it needed to be.

But she loved him, too, and it made him feel close to her, but at the same time farther than ever. When he only loved her, he was far away, but he could be okay with that, because he didn't have to wish he was closer. If they loved each other, it was as if he was being taunted by some sort of false hope, being pulled closer to her, but not quite close enough to reach her. Only close enough for him to be able to watch as she was snatched away from him. He wouldn't allow himself to have her, because he couldn't bear to lose her.

But what was he supposed to say to her? Should he lie and say that her feelings were unanswered, or should he explain himself? Surely he couldn't explain. If he did, she would find a way to win him over and convince him that he was wrong, which would only make it all the more painful when his fear was realized. And of course it would, inevitably, be realized.

She seemed to sense his distance as he drifted away from the world of the corporeal and lost himself in his overwhelming, confusing, expertly-masked emotions, and she spoke to snap him out of his trance. "Mori-senpai, I love you."

Hearing it for the second time, it became truer still, as did the pain and fear that came with it. Rain rolled like teardrops down his tough, stony features, and he stood there, swallowing the desire to respond in the selfish manner that would only end in his misery. And he turned his back on her, his head hung low as he screamed his wordless reply at the top of his ever-silent lungs.


End file.
